Trouble!

Today, the man at work who has schizophrenia wrote a letter for the boss. The boss was not in, so the letter was left pinned up in the office. It was not a nice letter. In fact, it was a threatening letter. The man with schizophrenia felt that the boss had been criticizing his work performance behind his back. Basically, it was three pages of messy kid-writing that ended with, "I will straighten you out real good. Love, Michael." I'm totally serious.

I was just leaving a comment on Darren's blog, and the CAPTCHA word was "suctic" haw haw haw. But then a strange thing happened. It changed as soon as the page finished loading. It was like it knew that I was laughing at its unintentional vulgarity and said, "F you, Owen, that's immature."

JGL = my hero

Seriously, I've been watching JGL videos on Youtube for half an hour. This one is insane.

Edit: One more :)

I have a massive crush on Megahn Perry.

That's all.

Lovester

Tonight, my parents prepared lobsters for dinner.
I was working on a big claw, and it cracked open suddenly, which (none of the following is exaggerated) resulted in really hot, frothy, white lobster substance ejecting somewhat violently from the claw, splattering on my hand, arm, shirt, and face.
The real tragedy is that I was in the company of my parents, grandmother, sister, and brother-in-law, i.e. no one with whom to make a dirty joke about it. Which makes me kinda sad.



Supplementary Material
The title of this blog entry comes from a word joke (I was going to call it a pun, but it isn't really) that my Filipino friend at Price Chopper, Peter, once said to me. The store was selling lobsters as a special sale, and I guess maybe due to his Filipino accent, Peter had trouble differentiating between the 'b' and 'v' sounds? So to him, "lobster" sounds like "lovester." So, as a [pretty lame] joke, he asked me, "Are you going to buy a hate-ster?"
But I'm a big fan of lame jokes, and appreciated it all the same.

Serial Testickicker in Langley, BC

I just read an article about this 22 year old guy in BC who was randomly kicked by a strange woman.
In the balls.
Really hard.
So hard that, afterwards, he realised that one of his balls was MISSING.

According to the article, the doctors first thought that his ball had gone up INSIDE HIM from the sheer force of the kick, which is fucking brutal already. They later discovered that it had, in fact, RUPTURED. OH GOD.
Apparently there have been several similar incidents in recent weeks, and police are investigating.

I wonder if hero cops are arguing about this.
"I'M heading the Serial Ballkicker case, NOT YOU, MURPHY."

Weird Dreams I've Been Having Lately

• attending some kind of Chinese Mafia wedding
• being chased through Chinatown by a guy who was pretty much like the Russell Wong character in Romeo Must Die
• stealing a bus, abandoning it at Sherbourne/Dundas, walking away casually
  
• hot dirty dream featuring sexy goth triplets
• video of Jocelyn and me doing bad karaoke hits the Internet, turning us into Youtube celebrities
  

Blue Niiiight

Tonight, while heading home on the bus, Mark and I sat down next to this drunk Aboriginal-looking dude in an M. Bison costume. He was saying something to me, but I didn't immediately understand what it was that he was saying.

It sounded like, "Cool off." I thought he wanted me to move away from him because I was sitting too close. "Cool off," he said again.

After a couple of minutes, I realised he had said, "Cool outfit." But I had taken too long to understand him and it was far too late to say, "Thank you," so I didn't. I felt kinda bad. Partly because I had failed to acknowledge him, and partly because my outfit was not that cool.

He later got off the bus, and in the vacant seat he left next to me, Mark and I spied a small puddle, complemented by additional drops of liquid. Mark convinced me that it was vomit, over my original hypothesis that perhaps it was urine. I prefer to believe it was puke, but not by a lot.

I suddenly really want Life With Louie on DVD. It does not exist, which is kind of a bummer.

What kind of scum am I?

Today I finished my HTML assignment, which was to design a web menu for a made-up restaurant. I finished it while drunk at 6:30 pm. So on the one hand, I feel kind of sleazy and lame, but on the other, I feel like 'hell yeah, I did that shit while drunk.' I didn't have any adjectives for that.

500 Days of Summer confused me

Now, let me say, I liked it. It was a well-crafted film, coherent, certainly not confusing due to any plot problems or technical things. But check this out:

Separated at birth? (this is an expression I invented, to describe two unrelated people who look similar)

Because I am unfamiliar with the actor who played Mackenzie, and because apparently I can't tell white people apart, I sat there the entire time sort of wondering, "Is that M. Ward?" For those who don't know, M. Ward is the singer-songwriter dude that works with with Zooey Deschanel pretty frequently. I thought maybe it was like, one of those fun Hollywood inside-joke things where they get their friends to be in their movies or something. The only way I can tell who is who in the above image is because you can kind of see the microphone, and you can tell from the nature of the left photograph that it's a sort of pretentious musician photo.
But seriously, Google image them. They look pretty much the same.

Anyway, that guy was funny. I liked him. I wish he was my friend.

I sometimes think about elderly famous people and how they're likely to die sooner or later, but I'm never quite ready for it. Frank McCourt is sick and apparently likely to die within a few weeks. I really don't think he had another book in him, but it still makes me sad.

FALSEbook

Facebook keeps on recommending that I add this random woman as a friend. I don't have any friends in common with her. Why does it want me to be her friend so badly? How does this work? I don't get it.

The title is not clever. I apologise.

i'd hop an ocean liner

My blog friend says I do not blog enough, so here is another entry.

This is a clip of a video we watched in jazz history. There was a lot of stuff we heard in that course that I couldn't get into, but this is really mesmerizing. It's even a little addictive, I watch it over and over again. The commentary near the end is hilarious. Stanley Crouch, I have no idea who you are or what you do, but you are awesome.

I will use italicized square brackets to provide more context in run-on sentences

A few weeks ago in Media And Communications [a lame class where we look at newspapers and magazines and learn how to write news articles the way we did when we were in junior high so what the hell am I doing learning this as a 22-year-old, my god, this is so incredibly community college, but the teacher is reasonably cool, she rides a motorcycle and is young and hip and I like her pants], this girl in my class [who is unbelievably stupid, but I try not to hate her for it because it's not like it's her fault that she's dumb, but honestly it's frustrating sometimes because she'll have these little bursts of defiance where she thinks she is courageously challenging what the teacher is telling us, but really she's just being a big idiot] was saying how, oh it's so terrible the way newspapers go on and on about a celebrity when they die, but they don't talk about normal people that way, and how come nobody cares when someone you never heard of dies? She was making a very impassioned speech about it, how society's so evil, and what's wrong with people, oh god.

But it's not evil. There's nothing evil about it. You're allowed to care about the death of somebody you never met, because maybe their work inspired you or touched you or was with you during some significant part of your life and you remember that, and it reminds you of something lovely or something heartbreaking and that's important to you.
You're allowed to not go to pieces over somebody you never heard of, because if you really cared that much about every human being on earth, you'd be miserable all the time.
It's not a reflection of how evil and superficial and uncaring society is. It's an emotional response that makes perfect sense.

Michael Jackson is dead and everyone is sick of hearing about it. But I think I'm allowed to feel a wee bit sad about it, even though I wasn't a particularly big fan and I didn't know him. I'm not saying I'm crying about it or I'm running out to buy all his CDs or I'm thinking about it every second or I'm reading about his life on Wikipedia, and I'm not defending those people. I just feel a little sad and surprised and I really wasn't expecting this. I've heard some really callous things being said by the more cynical people, and to be honest, it's kind of annoying, because I feel like I'm being lumped in with those tools who are running out to buy all his albums now that he's dead, and that's not who I am. I'm sure somebody has something to say about me writing this at all, but fuck it, I haven't ranted in a good while.

To me, it just feels strange and sad when someone like him, who has been present for my entire existence, just kicks the bucket without any warning. I'm not devastated. But the world feels slightly different each time something like this happens.

You know, as a kid, his music really touched me. And if he hadn't died, I'm sure he would have touched my kids too.
Alright, I did totally steal that joke from School of Rock. And it was inappropriate.

!

How is it that I've never heard of this game until today?



Cue up to 1:57, so awesome.

lmbo!!!!@!!1

I was looking through the Facebook profile of this shy, quiet guy that I knew in junior high, who has since become super religious (or maybe he always was, and is just more vocal about it now). For a while I got about two invites a day from him, to join some Christianity-oriented Facebook group.

So yeah I was looking through his pictures and stuff, and noticed that, instead of "lmao," he uses the acronym "lmbo" in his comments.
I can only assume this means "laughing my balls off."

Bus Moron

This morning on the bus, there was a moron.
I think he fancied himself very eloquent and far more intelligent than he really was, which is basically one of the worst types of morons. The more I heard him spewing to his female companion, the more I wanted one of us to die. Among numerous other things I wish I could purge from my brain, I learned that his name was Trevor. He was skinny with glasses, spikey blonde hair, and big teeth. Here are some choice quotes from this bus ride.

"I hate Jehovah's Witnesses. I like to talk to them in different accents to mess with them. I love having fun with people!"
-Trevor the Moron

"You know that song, 'And All That Jazz'? I rewrote my own lyrics to that. I'm so vocal. The way I talk, you'd probably think I was one of those people who'd start a revolution."
-Trevor the Moron

"Well, I'm a guy. So lesbians don't really bother me as much as gay men."
-Trevor the Moron




I started watching this on YouTube last night. I don't even know what it is, but it's kinda creepy. I thought it didn't bother me but then I had nightmares for the first time in I don't know how long. The content of the nightmares were unrelated, but it was upsetting. I hate waking up from a nightmare and finding out you haven't really woken up yet.

May and Owen at the office

Owen: [chuckles]
May: Are you laughing at the fetus pictures?
Owen: No.
May: ...me neither.

I guess this is less funny without context. But there really wasn't much else to it. I thought it was hilarious at the time.

Big Daddy!

I think the boss dude in the McDonald's Mac Wrap commercial is the guy who was the big black zombie in Land of the Dead.
I think that is awesome.
Exclamation mark, exclamation mark. Colon, capital D.

I think barbecue sauce on pizza is wrong.

HULLO MOTO

I like my new phone.
My first phone was a Motorola, and then it broke, and then I had a Nokia for about a year. Now I have a Motorola again but a different one. But it has similar interface and fonts as my old phone, which makes me feel slightly nostalgic. This is a little lame. Oh well.

Today I made an omelette with chili garlic sauce and goat cheese. A bit too much goat cheese but I enjoyed it thoroughly!

I've also been eating a lot of ice cream. And cookies. A lot of food in general.

To sum up, this post is about my new phone and what a piggie I am.

RASCSCSCISMSM

iRIP

I think my iPod is actually completely dead.
How did I ever get along without you?
It's going to be a long way to school tomorrow.
FUCK. :(

Go away evil spirits

My mom was doing this strange thing where she was standing in front of a closed bedroom door and stretching her arms up and placing her palms flat against the door and rubbing the door. I was confused by this. She explained that she was doing this to exercise her shoulders because her muscles were getting sore. I honestly thought she had started doing some strange kind of new age spiritual bedroom-blessing or something.

I was just looking at my blog entry from about a month ago. "I may have wrote about this already, I don't remember." I may have wrote? I MAY HAVE WROTE? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE BRING THIS TO MY ATTENTION? I may have wrote. God damn it. I don't know why but this seems like a really glaring error and it makes me ashamed. FUCK.

What sorcery is this?

I was thinking it would be fun to dress up in 18th century clothing and walk around acting really confused and looking at things like traffic lights and automobiles and such, and saying things like "HORSELESS CARRIAGES, WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?!" But it was really early in the morning when I thought of this. It seemed less funny as I woke up more fully.

I was black last night

I had this bizarre dream where I was participating in a social experiment where I had like super extreme make-up to make me look like I was a small black woman. So in my dream, I woke up and went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, and I shrieked! Because I had forgotten that I was a small black woman.

Rickroll Avenue

Oh, hi guys!

When I'm on the bus and the lady computer voice announces the stops, I frequently hear them wrong. And I mean ridiculously wrong. The other day, I thought I heard "Rickroll Avenue." I looked up at the sign and it read "Britwell Avenue." NICELY DONE, OWEN.

My house is currently empty. It makes me want to order awesome food and enjoy it ALL BY MYSELF. Because this is how I combat loneliness: food and porn. But never together, I think that's weird.

Darren was amazing last night. If you didn't see it, that's actually a real genuine tragedy. I got like seven boners in twenty seconds. Srsly.

My iPod is getting sad.

A few weeks ago I dropped my iPod Nano in a dirty puddle. It may have been this or numerous other drops or the accumulation of drops, but my iPod is getting worse every day. It no longer plays properly unless I apply specific pressure to the lower right corner of it. Depending on how I apply this pressure, it might:

1. Play properly
2. Cut out the left ear
3. Do this strange thing where all I hear is low thudding and bass, while midrange and high end is cut out
4. Not play at all

I thought it was my headphones at first, but it really isn't. :(

The High Five Game

We've been trying to get Dorian to give us high fives. Over and over and over. He's been kinda reaching for and grabbing hands, which is good enough for us. My mom was just doing it, actually. She puts up her hand and says, "Dorian, give me five!" and we wait a bit. And my mother's hand moves a little, to get his attention. And we wait. And he reaches for my mother's hand and grabs it, and right then, EVERYONE GOES NUTS! YAYY! YAAAAAYY YAHAHAA! HAAAAY! And there is applause and people are jumping up and down!

And then we do it again. :)

Blog for the hell of it.

Has it been a week already? Damn. I thought I was doing so well with this blog. I have nothing entertaining to talk about. I was thinking, What did I do today? And immediately, my instinct was to complain about the fucking TTC, because it sucked so bad today. Boring. I saw the Wrestler today. It was good but anybody who has watched five minutes of TV in the last two months could probably tell you that.

Sometimes I smell my own hair. Freshly washed, greasy as hell, whatever. Having long hair enables me to do this, so I do it. I like doing it.

I finally got some Nutella; May strongly suggested that I try it a long time ago. This morning I had it on some toast. I don't know if that's how you're supposed to do it but that's what the picture on the jar appears to be of, so that's what I did. I liked it. Sweet. Smooth. Less spreadable than I had thought it would be.

Let's move right along so that Darren doesn't say anything vulgar about that last bit.

There are a lot of presentations I have to do for school. I think almost every class has a presentation. I hate presentations. They make me nervous and shakey, more so. I may have wrote about this already, I don't remember. Somebody did a presentation on Asperger's syndrome today. It made me wish that I had some kind of diagnosable problem so that I could blame my shortcomings on something besides just being a lame guy.

I think I'm done for now.

Watch your dick,


Owen

I Am Procrastinating.

I have a stupid assignment due tomorrow. It is a report on the A/V equipment available at school. It is worth zero percent of final grade. This alone makes me not want to do it, but douchey course instructor insists we should.
I was exempted from taking English, which is awesome. Glad to have less stupid shit on my course load.

Nephew Dorian is funny. He laughs any time we say the word "uncle" in my grandma's crazy grandma dialect. He is slowly learning to respond appropriately when we say, "Gimme five, Dorian!"

This girl who is in all of my classes is my friend now because she started talking to me on the bus, and she talks a lot, which is good because I don't know how to talk a lot like she does. She talks at high speeds about friends and family, and it's literally impossible for me to keep track of who is who because there are so many people in her life that she tells me about, but the stories are mostly at least mildly entertaining. Much of the time, I don't know how to respond properly in a conversational way, so I just smile or laugh a little. My face starts to hurt from artificial-smiling too much after a while. Social interaction and I are not the best of friends.

Trudy was pinching my elbow with a hairclip. She said "Doesn't that hurt?"
I said, "No, it's annoying."
Then she said, "No. You know what's annoying?"

Then, slowly, calmly, she put the hairclip on, and stood up.

"SNAP ATTACK!" She then commenced waving her hands around my face, snapping her fingers over and over again. I like that motherhood has not yet demanded that she mature too much.

I meant to start this stupid assignment an hour ago. Fawwwk.

Yesterday I listened to Bright Eyes' "Landlocked Blues" for the first time, and pretty much spent all day with it. I think it's amazing.

Penis Oil

This middle-aged Chinese guy at work named Jack has a bit of a lispy Chinese accent. So it was quite humourous today when he asked me if I knew whether or not we carried peanut oil. I bravely resisted the urge to laugh in his face, because I'm a gigantic asshole but I pretend that I'm not.

Beans were a bad choice.

That's all.

I didn't like Darren for five minutes last night.

Last night on MSN, Darren made me feel like a dinosaur for still being on Xanga. He was being such a DICK. So I'm taking this opportunity to act like a bitch about it. Thanks Darren, for making me cave. I am now here, because everyone knows having fewer than three blogs is uncivilised.

This morning I listened to Empty Cell by Rusty, which I hadn't heard in probably more than ten years. And last night I saw an Everclear video on MuchMoreRetro, from the same year. I think I kind of miss 1997. I liked that time on Six Feet Under when Nate said, "You can't take a picture of this; it's already gone." TRU DAT!

Ok this Show is kinda shitty so far. Sorry!